


Le Morti

by Definitiveandy



Series: The Misadventures of Booker and Raphael [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Attempted Murder, Bomb, Detectives, Friendship/Love, Help, Hospitals, Imreallybadattagging, Lols, Love, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery, Shipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 21:48:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8550376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Definitiveandy/pseuds/Definitiveandy
Summary: What happens when there is a murder? This is the story of Booker Anderson and Raphael Dewitt and their lovely jobs as detectives.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Guys!  
> Welcome! This is what happens when I need to do an English assignment, so I hope you like the story and start to ship Booker and Raphael!  
> Enjoy!

Four dark figures stood in front of a tall classy building; the huge sign illuminated the black exterior walls as well as the red detailing creeping up and down.

It was a normal night, just like any other in 1966. The smell of rain, asphalt and something quite unfamiliar covered the winter air of New York.

The four figures were staring up at the big modern sign, which reflected down onto the narrow sidewalk that was littered with dark puddles.

A brunette with unruly, curly hair broke the uncomfortable silence that was placed among the group. “We should go in.” His deep English accent cut into the air.

“Yes, Eli’s right. We have been invited by a friend to have dinner. It would be rude to leave now.” Elijiah Gray replied, straightening his royal blue, personally tailored suit. His slightly wrinkled hands smoothed over the delicate fabric, as he stepped forward intending to enter the building.

As if Mr. Gray was their leader, they all assembled into a line to enter the building, which was a quiet and private spot. The sound of clicking high heels and business shoes against the dull wet pavement filled the air.

A small lanky Italian man met the group at the door. “Welcome to the Le Morti. I will be your butler for tonight.” His thick accent quickened as the soft, slow jazz started to play as they entered.

The restaurant was devoid of people, though it was strewn with finely set tables, with glittering silverware and shinning wine glasses.

The butler led them to a table towards the middle of the room; the white clothed table was set for 5 people. Each person took his or her places at the table, while Elijiah Gray pulled out a chair for Ms. Blair Prince, a petite red headed woman. He had always said that his mother had raised him as the perfect gentleman. As Ms. Prince sat down she nodded her thin, pale head at him, as a sign of thanks.

The butler murmured quietly about leaving to go get their menus, as he scurried off towards the kitchen.

Mr. Gabriel Frost was a talented young man, though his posture was straight and aware, his mind was somewhere else.

“Gabriel!” Mr. Frost’s bright green eyes darted around to find the source of the sound. Once his eyes had focused on the face that was Ms. Blair Prince, he quickly apologised for his rudeness. “Excuse me for my manner, I was just contemplating on something.” His voice stumbled upon the words as he tried to form them.

He stood up suddenly, the chair dragging across the wooden floorboards making an awful screeching sound. “Will you please excuse me? I will be needing to use the gentlemen’s room.” Everyone had their eyes fixated onto him, as he tried to regain his posture as he walked away.

Once he had reached the bathroom he stared himself straight in the eye. His light brown locks were every which way, though he had not remembered running his hands through them. Then absent-mindedly he ran his hands violently through his hair. His nervous hands then went straight to his pockets of his black slightly cheep dress pants, as he put his hands in he felt a strange material.

He then pulled out the material and looked down at it. It was paper, and then he remembered who invited him here. Mr. Frost then started to pay close attention to it; the paper was slightly rumpled, scrunched and discoloured.

The black ink flowed neatly across the page, the handwriting was beautiful, a work of art. While admiring the paper, his mind was questioning why he was invited. Though he didn’t have a lot of time to ponder.

A loud unwelcomed sound filled the air it was sharp and quick. The walls came tearing open as though they were paper. Gabriel brought his long slender arms up to his face to shield himself. He felt like he was in slow motion, that he could not move fast enough to get away.

His mind faded to black, unknowing if that was how he would die. Alone in a bathroom of a restaurant with people, he thought as rivals.

“Booker, get yourself down to 23rd and Main, and hurry we’ve had a bomb go off.” Booker Anderson, detective of NYPD slammed the Western Electric ‘302’ down back onto the holder. The abrupt noise could be herd from the next room, which woke up the uninvited guest that was currently there.

Booker Anderson dragged his olive skinned hands down his stubbled face. His expressionless green eyes were highlighted to his dark circles underneath them. As he stood up on his long legs, the off white bedroom door burst open and there stood his unwelcome guest.

Raphael Dewitt stood at the door aware and completely awake, the heavy rise and fall of his chest implemented his strong, tanned body. His jet-black hair stood every which way; though the colour made his dark chocolate brown eyes appear even livelier.

“Dios mio, what’s going on?” Raphael spoke breathlessly, with the sound of his Spanish accent shinning through the otherwise sound of his usual American one. “Get ready Rapha, we’ve got work to do,” Booker replied with the sound of his deep Texan accent filling the stale air of the cheap apartment in the Bronx.

Once the pair arrived at the scene they fully dressed and groomed, Booker wearing his typical cotton dress pants, white dress shirt and his ugly brown tie that Rapha can’t stop him from wearing. Though Rapha is dressed in his favourite black leather jacket, stark white t-shirt and dark blue jeans.  
  
Booker held up his badge, as did Rapha, the cop standing in front of the yellow tape stating caution, lifted it up above their heads so that they could pass through.  
  
The building was in a horrific state, dust, plaster and brick everywhere, though parts of the foundations were still standing. Surprisingly there wasn’t any damage to any of the closely surrounding buildings besides minor chips and cracks creeping up and down the walls.

Booker walked onto the crime scene like he owned it, his shoulders and hips swaying and his back straight in posture. His long strides took him over to one of the officers already at the scene. “Jeremiah, what do we have here?” Booker asked. “4 murders and a bomb. The victims include, Ms. Blair Prince, Mr. Eli Snow, Mr. Elijiah Gray and a worker by the name of Luigi Asta. Fortunately for us, we have a survivor, Mr. Gabriel Frost.”

“Any connections or leads?” Rapha asked, his hand going to his jaw stroking it carefully.

“Yeah, one in particular. They all worked at the same place, Evans Caddel, a big shot law firm.” Jeremiah replied, putting his hands behind his back.

“After you’re done here go on over to that survivor or over to forensics, there maybe something fun for you to find.” Jeremiah snickered and smiled.

Both partners went looking around not really anywhere near each other.

Rapha was looking around, trying not to get any of his clothes dirty, after about ten minutes of looking around he bent down and grabbed a plastic glove out of his pocket. He picked something up. Rapha walked over to Jeremiah saying, “Please take this to the lab and get them to retrieve what’s on it.” Jeremiah looked down at the evidence in his hand. It was a piece of paper. It was covered in dust and severely burnt.

“Sure, Mr. Dewitt,” Jeremiah said taking the paper and putting it in an evidence bag. This time when examining the crime scene, they both did it together. Booker was digging around into the crumpled building, turning over pieces of concrete, plaster and wood. Booker picked up a cracked and halved piece of wood that sits on the table.

He went to throw it away, thinking that it was insignificant, though something blue caught his questioning eyes. Booker quickly caught it and turned over looking on the underside. It looked like a bomb, well what was left of it anyways. “Jeremiah! Get over here!” Booker yelled, his deep voice echoing through the early morning streets.

“What is it?” he replied, trying not to trip over the rubble distributed over the floor. Once Jeremiah reached Booker and Rapha his eyes turned slightly darker with question and curiosity. Booker held out the top of the wooden table, his large gloved hands overlapping the damaged and fractured pieces. Jeremiah took it carefully, trying not to damage it further. “This should be helpful, we can identify the murderer as an expert or an amateur.” Booker nodded

“We’ll be leaving. We’re going to talk to that survivor, he might possibly know who caused this disaster.” Booker replied, gesturing to the mess of a crime scene. He then turned on is heel walking back to the car. Rapha was still standing in his spot and just rolled his eyes, thinking about how dramatic Booker was, though soon following Booker to the car.

As Booker and Rapha walked into the hospital the stench of disinfectant and the overall smell of sickness filled their noses.

“I hate hospitals,” Rapha stated. His hand was brought over to cover his nose. “Stop that.” Booker took Rapha’s hand and brought it away from his face. “It’s rude.”

Just as Booker had said that, Rapha sped up his walking and surpassed Booker and walking off, as he became out of sight.

When Booker got to the bleak room of Gabriel Frost, Rapha had already arrived and actively talking to the nurse at the foot of the bed.

Booker walked in and made his presence aware, the nurse around and looked up at Booker, and just turned back around to continue speaking to Rapha.

When she left, Booker allowed himself to take a good look at the victim of attempted murder. Mr. Frost was a mess, his head was bandaged up, skin was ripped and torn, 3rd degree burns littered down his legs and up and his arms and his left arm was in a stark white cast, as well his right leg, Booker also saw that his right arm and left ankle were cuffed to the bed frame with what seemed to resemble brown leather belts.

Mr. Frost’s face was least to say mutilated, most of his skin was pulled away, and there were black and red sections where his face was burned badly. His eyes were opened wide and were locked onto the ceiling, which from the looks of it Mr. Frost found it very interesting.

“Good morning Mr. Frost, how do you feel?” Rapha asked, totally oblivious to the pained expression that Mr. Frost was wearing.

The only reply that Rapha received was a turn of Mr. Frost’s head and an expressionless face. “Mr. Frost we are in need of your help, we would like to ask you about the incident that occurred last night.” Booker tried a gentle approach to empathise with the victim.

“We were out to dinner, Ms. Prince, Mr. Gray, Eli and I. We were invited by one of our co-workers, they said that they wanted to reward us for our efforts at the firm.” Mr. Frost’s voice was very shaky and coarse, he seemed... afraid.

“Who was it?” Rapha wasn’t playing around here, his face was craggy, pained and tired. The lines in his forehead started to show, something very unusual for someone his age.

“I can’t say! Please don’t make me say it! Please!” Mr. Frost began to become unstable.

He began to pull and strain against the restraints, the straining made quite a loud screeching as the metal of the bed started to move with the movements of Mr. Frost. Though the sound was not as the loud screaming his vocal cords started to make.

The nurse came rushing into the room after hearing all the screaming. “I told you to be gentle, that he was unstable! You need to leave, right now!” He yelled, her head turning around to give Rapha a deathly glare.  
  
“Well, that was eventful,” Rapha stated in a monotone voice as they were walking out of the hospital. “Well, at least we have a witness and have narrowed down to who the killer could be,” Booker replied back, trying to rid his mind of the mental image of Mr. Frost’s face. “Yes, that is true.” Rapha continued.

“But before we head over to the legal firm, I would like to go to forensics to take a look at that note and that bomb, it’s going to be interesting,” Rapha said with a smirk.

Though the rest of the walk was silent, though thoughts were swirling around in the minds of both men.

“Oh, Lily!” Rapha yelled out childishly, mimicking a seven-year-old boy who was greeting a child that was significantly younger than him.

“In here!” Came out a feminine voice from a smaller room in the lab.

Lily Kingsley was a bright thirty-year-old woman, who, unfortunately, dealt with Booker and Rapha a lot.

“What have you got for me?” Rapha exclaimed, rubbing his hands together acting like a child in a candy store.

“Well for the piece of paper I was able to get initials that have been signed at the end of the message, though sadly nothing else. With the so-called ‘bomb’ I was able to trace the chemicals used. Some include drain cleaner and rust remover, these products contain nitric and sulphuric acid, which are necessary to make homemade bombs. Though I found something interesting, the bomb was activated via a remote, but they needed to be in a 500m radius.”

Before Rapha could thank her for her efforts, Booker asked, “Anything unusual with the bodies?”

“No, the bodies were killed by the blast,” Lily replied, her gaze never faltered proving that she was certain.

“Thank you, that will be all.” Booker turned away leaving the building while Rapha trailed closely behind.

Both men sat in Booker’s blue Chevrolet Corvette, which had the tanned soft top up.

“Where are we going?” Rapha asked. Booker ignoring him said, “You need to stop with these stupid mistakes, pushing an unstable witness over the edge, the small outbursts, the childish behaviour and refusing to tell me vital information.”

“Where are we going?” Rapha repeated. Booker said, “We’re going to Evans Caddel. We are going to pay Kent Carlos and Kayla Caddel a visit.”

“Good afternoon Ms. Caddel, I am Detective Anderson and this is my partner Detective Dewitt, we would just like to ask you a few questions on the deaths of Ms. Blair Prince, Mr. Eli Snow, Mr. Elijiah Gray. I believe that they were employees at this establishment.”

“Yes you are correct they were employees here at my establishment and be quick with those questions, I have a firm to run.” Ms. Kayla Caddel is the name partner of Evans Caddel. She is the most powerful woman in the city and has a reputation for being a force to be reckoned with.

“In your establishment were there any individuals of your firm that had any reason to kill the victims?” Rapha quickly asked the brunette dame that was sitting down all calm, at her mahogany desk.

“Though I would like to say no, I can’t. You must understand that here, you need to watch your back, anyone and everyone is your rival. Though I thought that it would not go as far as murder.” She waited about a minute before talking again.

“I can think of two people who would go to an extent as far as that and wished hell upon each of those people. Kent Carlos, Kacey Specter and Kipp Cade.”

“Where were you on the night of the murder?” Booker then asked he wasn’t ruling out anyone just yet.

“I was at my apartment, working on a case. If you need confirmation you can ask my doorman.” She replied, her cold façade never breaking.

“Where might we find them?” Rapha asked inquisitively.

“20th floor.” She says, as she turns around in her chair.

“Thankyou that will be all.” Booker dismissed her, nodding and walked away calmly.

“Let's go find this murderer!” Rapha yells as they enter the elevator. Booker then presses the black button that says ’20.’

“Let's go.” Booker murmurs as he runs his calloused hands down his face.

They both step off the elevator and walk onto the busying floor and walked over to a lowly worker and said, “We’re looking for Kent Carlos.”

The employee replies back with “He’s in his office over there.” He points over to one of the corners of the floor and walks off.

Both detective walk over to the office and they stride in acting like they own the place.

“Good afternoon Mr. Carlos, I am Detective Booker Anderson and this is my partner Detective Raphael Dewitt, we would just like to ask you a few questions on the deaths of Ms. Blair Prince, Mr. Eli Snow and Mr. Elijiah Gray.” Booker introduced himself and Rapha.

“What would you like to ask me? You seriously don’t think that I actually killed those idiots!” Mr. Carlos’ pale face started to turn red and the perspiration started to appear across his forehead and neck. His eyes were widened, his pupils were dilated and his composed posture that apparent before was completely gone.

“Do you have something to hide Mr. Carlos?” Rapha blatantly asked.

Mr. Carlos’ hands then started to fidget and he wouldn’t make eye contact, as he said, “No I don’t have anything to hide.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if we asked you a few questions, like where you were last night?”

“Yes, I was at The Caramel Room.” He replied nervously.

Rapha quickly grabbed Bookers' arm and dragged him out of the room. “Booker, The Caramel Room is two doors down from Le Morti, that’s in a 500-meter radius. It could be him.”

“Rapha, we need a warrant. We can’t just barge into his house and look for clues, you know this.” Booker whispered, not wanting to tip off Kent.

“It all fits, his initials, his whereabouts, all we need is the products that he has used and we can but him away! Come on Booker by the time we get a warrant the stuff could be gone.” Rapha complained, trying to get Booker to see reason.

“Ok, ok, I’ll see what I can do. I have a contact that I can reach out to. Just stay with him.” Booker’s long finger pointed at Kent as he left.

Rapha was starting to become very impatient, Booker had been gone for 2 hours and he was stuck babysitting this guy. Rapha followed him everywhere even to the bathroom so he couldn’t make a break for it.

About five minutes later Booker burst through the office door holding a warrant signed by Judge Samuel Alito. “We have a warrant and we would like you to take us to your house for further investigation of this crime.”

Mr. Kent Carlos lived out of the city in a quiet street, the house looked almost like a home, like it was lived in and cherished by the owner. It was the typical family house, red terracotta tiling on the roof and a white picket fence,

Once let inside the house, Rapha went straight to the living room looking for tools of some sort or any home materials that had been used in the homemade bomb. Though Booker was smarter, he went straight to the trashcan in the kitchen and emptied it, nothing. There was nothing that they could use to put away Kent forever. Another idea went through Booker’s head. While Rapha was looking in the bathroom, Booker exited the house and went straight to the outside garbage bin.

He then tipped it over and riffled through it. There on the bottom of the bin was drain cleaner and rust remover along with other unnamable tools and packages that looked dangerous.  
  
Booker stomped into the house and took out his shiny silver handcuffs. He came up to Kent Carlos and said, “Hands behind you back.” Mr. Carlos began to cry and pleaded, screaming that it wasn’t him and he was framed. Though Booker continued and began to tell Mr. Carlos his rights, “Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish.”

The trial went smoothly and in less than 4 weeks Mr. Kent Carlos was put behind bars, to live out the end of his days in court. Justice was served, or was it?

On September 12th, 2001 Ms. Kacey Specter had been acclaimed dead, on the bed next to her was a neatly written letter in a neat little envelope.

_I had been teased, tormented, assaulted and embarrassed. What was I supposed to do? I had nowhere else to go, no one would help me._  
_I was an associate to Mr Gray; anyone would have killed to be in my position. I got to learn from a master of law, but all I wanted was to get out. I was kept under a contract, it was like hell; every time I was alone with him, all he did was put his hands all over me. Every time I told him to stop, to leave me in peace, he wouldn’t. All he did was use me and no one would help._  
_Each of the others, they teased and embarrassed me, took my things and played terrible ‘jokes’ on me. I wanted it to stop, to be left alone to be myself and do my work,_  
_Ms. Prince was a low person; all she did to me was threaten me with telling everyone what was going on between Mr. Gray and me. Blackmailing me to do whatever she wanted me to do._  
_Mr. Frost, Mr. Snow and Mr. Carlos were not kind men, all they would say to me was that I didn’t belong there, that law wasn’t a place for women. They would steal items from my desk and hide them around the office. I begged them to leave me alone, but they didn’t, so I dealt with them myself. To rid the world of this scum and end my suffering, though it took careful planning._  
_Though I had eventually put everything into place, I had set the bomb, found a place to kill them and who to frame. I already had plans for making the bomb, the blueprints had been handed down from my father to me, so I thought that would be the easiest for to kill them with. I hid the evidence and the materials at Mr. Carlos’ place at the bottom of the bin and had dinned at Le Morti the night before on the exact table to put the bomb into place._  
_It was easy to lead every one of them down to the restaurant and had given strict instructions to the butler._  
_It was a secluded street, so it was really easy to not be seen by others, and before I knew it I was pressing the button. Though to my knowledge, I did not know that Mr. Gabriel Frost was still alive after I had left._  
_Though he never did tell anyone about me, or maybe he did. I had scarred not only his face but also his mind and that was good enough for me._  
_If I had to do it again, I would._  
_I’m owning up to the murder of Ms. Blair Prince, Mr. Gabriel Frost, Mr Eli Snow, Mr. Elijiah Gray and some unfortunate unnamed man who had been caught up in my plans._  
_I will die tonight and I hope that some does get this letter and takes into consideration what predicament I was in._

_Signed,_  
_Ms. Kacey Specter_

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably be making a series! So stay tooned. Don't forget to leave and comment and kudos!
> 
> \- Andy


End file.
